To sum it up, simply getting angry and bluffing my way through things wasn't something I could do often.
The two of them wouldn't stop grumbling.
If I hadn't been the one to inspire Joseph's dream of becoming a doctor, and if I hadn't, in a way, been Alfred's lifesaver, he probably wouldn't have hesitated to pour boiling water on me. That's how intensely suspicious they both looked.
'Well, whatever...'
At least I was protecting the patient.
In the meantime, the boys had boiled some water.
While waiting for it to cool, I focused on finding a vein.
"Uh... but is it really okay to use such a large vein...?"
I couldn't just tie a tourniquet and draw blood like normal.
For one, this era lacked modern materials like rubber or plastic, so the concept of IV lines didn't even exist.
Actually, the very idea of an IV line wasn't even a thing yet.
We were in an age where none of this had been developed.
Honestly...
It seemed like using a central venous catheter would be the safer option.
"The needle is huge..."
"Of..."
The needle was enormous, literally.
You see alternate history novels where blacksmiths in the Joseon Dynasty can supposedly craft anything with precision if you just place an order. But in 19th-century London? What the hell were they even doing?
This needle wasn't made for injections—it looked more suited for drawing blood. No, scratch that. It looked more like a murder weapon.
Screech.
Regardless, I found the patient's jugular vein and inserted the needle.
"Ugh..."
Pain?
Of course, there would be pain.
Even in his semi-conscious state, the patient groaned in agony.
"Hey, can't we use anesthesia?"
Alfred, unable to watch any longer, spoke up.
His gaze flickered between the patient and his own fingers.
Having experienced unimaginable pain himself, he probably couldn't help but empathize.
'If I say that anesthesia could lower blood pressure or suppress breathing... would they understand?'
The only anesthetic I had access to was nitrous oxide.
And I didn't even know much about it.
At first, it seemed to excite the patient rather than sedate them, then it put them under, and if taken too far, it led to respiratory suppression and death.
This patient was in no condition to risk it.
Even in the 21st century, where anesthesia had evolved significantly, doctors still checked if it was safe before administering it.
And here I was, in the 19th century, thinking about using it recklessly?
"It's just one stab."
"It's basically a knife, though...? Can you call it just one stab if it's like stabbing someone with a blade?"
"…Well, it's done now."
So, I couldn't use anesthesia.
It sounded like a rather inhumane excuse, but...
Anyway, I succeeded in inserting the needle.
A less experienced person might have ended up puncturing the carotid artery instead of the jugular vein.
But I was a genius surgeon.
In a matter of moments, I managed to insert that ridiculously thick needle into a vessel that had practically adhered to itself from all the blood loss.
"The water's cooled, right?"
"Huh? No? It's still hot."
"Hey, hey! Don't stick your hand in!"
"Why not?"
"Be—... because it's hot."
This idiot had boiled the water only to try and stick his fingers in it.
Actually, he might have already done it.
Come to think of it, I hadn't seen how they carried the water here.
But I couldn't make them boil another batch.
'I just have to hope the patient is strong as hell.'
I mean, could I even call this a sterile procedure?
At best, I had wiped the skin with chlorinated lime and used a needle that had been boiled in hot water.
And the patient's body was still covered in dirt.
'This isn't just about right now.'
Now that I thought about it, that bastard Jemmel really was a piece of shit.
He hadn't just drawn blood, had he?
There was no way he had sterilized anything before stabbing the guy—whether it was with a needle or a goose feather.
Which meant the infection was already a done deal.
The damage had been done.
Still, adding unboiled water to the mix wasn't an option either.
'The Thames… that cesspool of filth…'
It was pretty obvious that London didn't have a proper sewage system.
If it did, would the water still stink like that?
Even after boiling it, it was still disgusting.
Drinking it unboiled?
That was basically a murder method in itself.
'Maybe I should prepare some distilled water in advance… just in case.'
As I let my thoughts spiral—thoughts that could just as well be called laments—I noticed that the water had finally cooled.
Not because I touched it.
I could feel the temperature through the metal container.
"Oh, oh! The patient is convulsing!"
Just then, the patient's whole body started seizing.
It wasn't exactly common, but it wasn't rare either.
Anyone who had treated trauma patients before would recognize it.
Excessive blood loss sometimes led to reduced blood flow to the brain, causing seizures.
So what should we do?
We needed to stop the bleeding or give the patient blood.
Since both were impossible, water would have to do.
Even if it was just diluted blood, it needed to circulate through the body.
"You two, hold him down. Don't let that needle come out."
"O-okay!"
"Got it!"
At least Joseph and Alfred weren't dumb.
Even though they knew nothing, they instinctively understood that the needle was hard to insert and that letting it fall out now would be disastrous.
"…Hah."
But that didn't mean things were looking much better.
There were no IV lines.
The needle was just sitting there by itself, and there were no rubber tubes.
'Man...
...Once they invent condoms, I'm gonna have a lot of things to make.'
I briefly thought about the piles of blackened, elongated things lying around the factory—or was it a research lab?—before carefully pouring the water through a funnel.
Even though I was cautious, I could tell the volume was significant.
Not to mention the vein was practically stuck together.
"..."
The jugular vein visibly swelled.
'If air gets in there, that's it.'
Air embolism.
If too much air entered the bloodstream, it could be fatal.
But who here would even know what that was?
Because it almost never happened.
Think about it.
IV lines were sealed systems.
Experienced nurses handled them, minimizing risks.
'Shit.'
But this was different.
I was literally pouring water into an open vein.
A single air bubble could clog an artery and kill the patient.
This wasn't a situation where I could afford to be careless.
"…It's stopping."
Meanwhile, the water had restored the patient's shriveled plasma volume in real time.
Even if it was just diluted blood, at least it was circulating again.
If it had been real blood, it would have been even better…
"Good."
"Wow… How is this even possible…?"
"Seriously, how…?"
Their faces said it all.
In this era, seizures practically meant death.
Without blood transfusions or any understanding of volume expansion, how could anyone stop a seizure from blood loss?
Their expressions, as if witnessing a miracle, were understandable.
"Now we…"
These two were fine.
They wouldn't snitch on me.
But if word got out…
Especially to Jemmel.
I had just saved a patient he'd tried to kill.
And Robert, our dear doctor, was back in his hometown.
"Let's pray."
"Huh?"
"Pray?"
So, I decided to prove my devout faith.
'Because, honestly,
it's all up to heaven now.'
What else could I do?
There were no antibiotics, no blood transfusions.
All I could do was keep hydrating him.
"Y-yeah, let's pray."
"You really have strong faith, huh?"
Then, with blank faces, they clasped my hands and started praying.